


A Walk On the Other Side

by runsinthefamily



Series: A Walk On the Other Side [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Chest Hair, Multi, Sex Change, Spanking, huge cock, isabela gots moves, sparklefingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the kmeme: It seems to this OP that Isabela's gender often becomes an overwhelming aspect of her character. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it got OP to wondering about how Isabela would be both different and the same if she were a man. How would her companions and the world around her respond?</p><p>Could be an AU in which Isabela was always a man or a magical accident that turns her into a man.</p><p>Sweet, serious or utterly cracktastic fine by OP. Any, many or no LI just dandy. Artfill or fic would be excellent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Varric

The door to Varric's private suite burst open, revealing a tall, handsome Riviani man in skin tight black trousers, thigh high boots, sleeveless shirt open to his waist, and flowing, luxurious black hair, the bounty of which also graced his firm, muscled chest and stomach.

"This," he proclaimed, "is the best day of my life."

"That's nice," said Varric. "Some reason why you're having it here? I don't usually invite strangers into my bedroom."

"I thought perhaps we could have a hair-off," said the man, stroking his chest suggestively. He looked weirdly familiar and the gleam in his eye was definitely something that Varric had seen before ... "There's another Paragon of manliness in town, sweet thing."

A few years ago, this sort of thing would have probably made him surprised, but after following Hawke around, there was very little that could shock him anymore. "Rivaini," he said. "How did you accomplish this? And _why_?"

"There was a thing, in the Emporium," Isabela shrugged. The necklace was gone, but she - _he'd_ kept the lip ring. And the earrings. Varric was sincerely grateful for the pants. Isabela came into the room, her usual wiggle altered into a self-confident strut. "Does it matter?" He paused in front of Varric's mirror. "Maker's mercy, look at me," he purred. "I'm mouthwatering."

"Is there a point to this?" Varric said. "I'm writing."

"I just wanted to compare," said Isabela, strode over, and ran one large hand into Varric's chest hair.

"Hey!" Varric slapped the hand away.

"Well, damn," said Isabela, petting his own pectorals. "I concede. Even with magical aid, there's no topping you, Varric." He leaned down, lips quirking. "Unless you'd like me to."

As a woman, Isabela had been tempting. As a man ... the only thing stopping Varric from leaning forward and seeing if those lips were as soft as they looked was the sure knowledge that Isabela would gloat _forever_. And he just couldn't do that to Bianca.

"I'm glad you're having a nice time," said Varric with effort. "Please have it somewhere else."

"Already did," he shrugged. "But I'm sure there's lots of places left to try." That gleam came back, twice as gleamy. "I wonder if Anders is busy. I bet he's got some rejuvenation potions on hand."

"That's great," said Varric. "Good idea."

"Mmmm," said Isabela. There was just the faintest hint of a shadow along the line of his jaw. He smelled of sea wind and garlic and some musky thing that Varric couldn't name. It was probably sex. "I'll go. But first -"

Varric had been kissed by men before. He'd been kissed by Isabela before. Being kissed by Isabela as a man was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Ravaged and ravished and teased and coaxed and hauled forward so that their manly pelts rubbed together and then let go, panting as though he'd run ten miles with the Merchant's Guild at his heels.

"Lovely," said Isabela. "Ta!" He sauntered out, that criminally pert pair of buns flexing.

"Gah," said Varric. He glanced at the quill in his hand and then tossed it aside. Some things _no one_ would believe.


	2. Merrill

"There you are!"

Arms came around Merrill's waist and swept her into the air. She squawked, flailed, and clamped down on her immediate instinct to coat herself in rock and suck the life out of her assailant with ancient Elvhen magics. Hawke had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it was a bad idea to do things like that in public and, while she wasn't going to follow orders blindly, she might as well have stayed under Marethari's tutelage if that were the case, she recognized good sense when it was spoken.

"Merrill, Merrill, Merrill!" said the man who had hold of her. "You will never guess!"

"Oh," she said, relaxing. "Hello, Isabela."

Her feet hit the ground and she turned to see a tall, gorgeous, dark skinned man pouting at her. "How did you know?"

"Well, we're friends," said Merrill. "I'd recognize you if you were a halla, Isabela. How did this happen? Do you need help reversing it? It doesn't seem like blood magic, maybe Hawke or Anders might have a better idea than me, but I could have a look if you like."

"I don't want to reverse it," said Isabela, rolling her eyes. "It's a bit of fun!"

"You did it on purpose?" Merrill furrowed her brow. "Whatever for?"

"I've always wanted to see what it was like on the other side," said Isabela, wrapping Merrill's arm in hers and walking off through Lowtown.

"Really?" Merrill was suddenly fascinated. "What is it like?"

"Terribly hard to concentrate," said Isabela, glancing down at her.

"Why? Because you're taller, and everything seems the wrong height? Or, oh, because your balance is off? Do you miss your breasts? Is it very odd, to be all big and muscle-y?"

"It's the cock," said Isabela.

"Ohhhhh," said Merrill. "I do appreciate, Isabela, that you are always willing to tell me the dirty bits. I've learned so much from you. Do you suppose, um, would it be alright if ..."

"If I get Fenris into bed, you can watch," said Isabela.

Merrill beamed.


	3. Sebastian

Sebastian lingered under the statue of Hawke defeating the Arishok, dragging one foot through the dust and endeavoring to look as though he belonged there. Gone was the shining armor, the maille and the rich fur collar and the air of piety. He was in wool and leather, worn and dirty, a hood pulled up to shadow his features.

It was getting late. This was the spot that Madame Lusine had told him in the note, so where was ...

"Hello, sailor."

He turned and felt his knees go weak. Maker's breath, this was the new 'talent' that he was supposed to 'give a chance?' Tall - taller than him by inches, and he was not a short man - toasted skin, full lips, sinful eyes, legs that went on forever. And the body hair, Maker have mercy. Thick and luxurious, a rich pelt he wanted to sink his fingers into and press his face against and feel warm against his naked back.

"Are you ... are you Leegan?"

A smile spread those lovely lips, suddenly knowing and amused. "No, swee - sweetpea, I'm not. But, seeing as he doesn't seem to have shown up for you, maybe I might be able to ... fill in?"

"I, ah, I paid for ..."

"Oh, I don't need paying," said the vision. "Trust me, I don't need paying. Did you have somewhere you were planning on taking Leegan?"

"There's an inn," said Sebastian. "Just down this way ..."

"The Happy Harlot? Ooh, good choice. Clean sheets and ever so discreet." The man stepped in, ran warm fingers along Sebastian's cheek and into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Call me Truco."

Truco gently turned Sebastian and walked him down the street toward the Harlot, leaving his hand where it was. Sebastian almost felt like a kitten, dangling helplessly from the firm grip at his scruff. This was going to be good, he could tell.

Through the darkened common room, up the stairs, third door on the left. Truco shoved him gently toward the bed and locked the door. "So, how do you like it, sailor? Nice and gentle? Fast and rough? Do you like to play kneeling penitent and stern Chantry Brother?" The smile was back, so knowing, so very amused.

Sebastian's breath came a little faster as Truco stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. The shoulders, the narrow waist, the way he moved, as though his spine were a snake ... "I like to be beaten," he blurted out.

Truco laughed. There was no mockery in it, just a kind of delirious joy. "Of course you do," he said and took off his belt. "Because you're naughty. And bad."

Sebastian swallowed. "I am," he said. "Maker, I am."

"This," said Truco, "is going to be _fun._ "

Much, much later, as Sebastian lay barely conscious on the much-defiled bed, Truco finished pulling his boots on and bent to kiss him goodbye. Sebastian murmured a bit at the touch of his lips.

"No, no," said Truco. "You sleep now. You've earned it, sweet thing."

That made Sebastian start a little, lift his head to see the door closing behind the other man. _Must be a Rivaini saying_ , he thought.


	4. Aveline

"I don't know who you are, but you're going to tell me what you're doing in the Champion's house, right now." Aveline kept her hand on her sword hilt. This man looked like trouble if she'd ever seen it, six foot plus of oozing sex appeal and self-satisfaction. He had a lip ring, for the Maker's sake.

"Right now?" he said, smirking. "Right now I'm looking at about ten fathoms worth of repression."

"Keep that up and I'm going to start asking with steel," said Aveline.

"I'm just here to drop off a note," said the man, waving a scrap of paper. "I'm just going to put it on the desk, here," he dropped it on top of Hawke's correspondence, "and then be on my way, alright?"

"That doesn't answer the question of how you got in," said Aveline.

"I picked the lock," said the man. "I've got dextrous fingers, everyone says so."

"You admit to breaking in?" asked Aveline.

"Well, if you're going to be all technical about it," said the man, rolling his eyes.

"That's it," said Aveline grimly.

There was a quick confusion of shield bashing, some well-placed blows with the hilt of her sword, and then she had the man up against the wall, one arm twisted high between his shoulderblades.

"A quick tongue but no skills to back it up, hey?" asked Aveline, kicking one of his daggers away.

"My arms are too long," said the man sulkily. "It's not like I've had the time to practice. Well, alright, yes I have, but I've had so many other things on my to-do list."

"What are you babbling about?" Aveline demanded.

"Oh for ... could you let me go? As sexy as this strong hand of the law thing is, my arm is starting to hurt." He craned his neck and dropped her a wink. "C'mon, big girl. You know I didn't mean any harm."

"What ..." Aveline began and then she started to put things together. "Isabela!?"

"In the magically altered flesh!" said the man with a grin.

"I don't want to know," said Aveline and let go.

"It was ..."

"No." She held up a hand.

"And then Merrill ..."

"No!"

"Sebastian was really ..."

" _No_!" Aveline gritted out. "So help me, whore, one more word and I will arrest you. I do not want to know. I don't want to know how you did it, nor what you have been doing since, nor who you've been doing it with, understand me?"

Isabela pouted, crossing her - his - oh Maker preserve - arms.

"Can I just tell you ..."

"I'm leaving." She made for the entry.

"Mycockishuge!"

Aveline slammed the door.


	5. Anders

Anders was closing the clinic doors when a boot suddenly interposed itself. A very tall boot enclosing a very long leg attached to a very, very attractive man, all dark and smirk and sex and dancing honey coloured eyes.

"Can I help ..." he began.

"It's me, Isabela, I'm a man now, my cock is huge, want to have sex?" Anders was shoved aside as Isabela strode into the clinic, hopped up on the examination table, and spread his thighs in a manner that would have been lascivious enough as a woman. "Did I mention my cock is huge?"

"Uh," said Anders.

"Oh come on, Anders," said Isabela. He leaned back on his elbows and raised one eyebrow. "Let me feel your Taint. What else are you doing, right now?"

Anders sighed and locked the door.

"Black Emporium?" he asked as he walked over.

"Yep," said Isabela. He took hold of Anders's coat and reeled him slowly in.

"This would be really useful for mages escaping ..."

"Stop talking," said Isabela and kissed him.

Isabela tasted him like he was a fine wine to be savoured and breathed in and rolled across the palate. He put his hands on Isabela's thighs, stroked upward. Isabela broke the kiss and laughed softly. "Maker, men are easy," he said. "I'm so ready to fuck."

"If you want," said Anders, half-drunk on the kiss already. It had been a long time.

"No, no, sweet thing," said Isabela. "I'm going to treat you right." His dark fingers laddered their way slowly down Anders's coat, undoing the buckles and clasps. "Mmmm," he said as the garment fell away. "You got lean, Anders. You used to be all cuddly and soft, with a bit of squish." He pinched Anders's belly, playfully. "It's nice, though. I like it. The dangerous renegade apostate look. Want to see how the breasts translated?"

"I can," said Anders, wryly. "Nice copping Varric's look."

"Hey," said Isabela, wounded. "I pull it off rather nicely, I think."

"You do," said Anders. His voice went husky.

Isabela smirked again, tugged off the shirt and let it fall on the floor. He was a sculpture, muscled without bulk, lithe and taut. Anders bent, found a nipple among the fur and tongued it.

"Mmm, yep, still like that," Isabela breathed. "Got a bed in this place?"

They made it back into Anders's little alcove, shedding clothing all the way. They were naked by the time they hit the bed and Anders found that Isabela hadn't lied.

He was huge.

"Salve," Anders gasped, coming up for air from one of those drowning kisses.

"No rush," said Isabela and bent to take Anders's cock into his mouth.

"Oh, Maker's sweaty balls," said Anders. "I'm not going to last, I'm -"

Isabela lifted his head. "That's what restoration potions are for," he said.

"You're the one who's been swiping -" Anders began accusingly and then choked on his words as Isabela dove back down.

Maker he was good. Tongue, lips, teeth, a throat open and willing, one hand on Anders's balls and the other playing lightly around his backdoor. Anders bit his wrist, pounded his other fist against the bed, and came.

Isabela pulled away, wiping his mouth unashamedly. "Now that's out of the way," he said, bent back down, and began to rim Anders with enthusiasm.

They used the salve, the potion, Anders's electricity trick, and pretty much anything else they could get their hands on. At last even Anders's magic could not rouse them for another round and they rested, sweaty and sticky and satisfied.

"Mmmmm," said Isabela. "Mama liked that very much. Or I suppose I'm Poppa now."

"You're perverse," said Anders.

"Ooh, that reminds me," said Isabela and sat up. "I made a promise to Merrill."

"Dear _Maker_ ," said Anders. "I don't want to know."

"Now you sound like Man-hands," said Isabela, rummaging around for his smalls. "Ah, there we go." He shimmied into his clothing, blew Anders a kiss, and was gone.

"Well," said Anders. "That was unexpected."

CAN WE GET BACK TO WORK NOW?

"Yes, yes," said Anders. "When my legs start working again."


	6. Fenris

Fenris was bent over his table in flickering candlelight, puzzling out the words in Varric's most recent manuscript one by one. Each time he teased meaning out of Varric's bold, large handwriting, he smiled a little, savouring the victory. This story was about their victory over another one of the street gangs that plagued Kirkwall, a rousing tale of battle and comradeship, no magic, no Templars, just clean sword against sword. Varric embroidered the tale, of course, but it was entertaining nonetheless, and he'd captured Hawke's regrettable wit in a way that made it actually funny.

Downstairs the door swung open and then shut. He tensed for a moment, and then heard the staccato rapping of Isabela's knuckles against the banister. Each of his friends had a way of announcing themselves as they came to visit, necessary if they didn't want to be greeted by his sword.

The stairs creaked a little more deeply than usual. Perhaps Isabela had brought something heavy with her? She often arrived with various - things, to bring into their bedplay. A fearless woman, unabashed and free. He admired her more than a little, far beyond the simply physical, although that was all that she permitted him. And that, too, was freedom of a kind, although ...

His bedroom door swung open and he ignited his tattoos and leapt across the room to slam the human against the doorframe, one hand fisted in the man's collar, the other drawn back to arrow at his heart.

"Fenris!" the man shouted. "Stop!"

"How do you know me?" Fenris snarled. "And what have you done with Isabela?"

"This conversation gets less fun every time I have it," the man muttered. "I _am_ Isabela."

Fenris narrowed his eyes and tensed his hovering hand, ready to phase.

"Last time I was here we broke that hideous yellow chair, you sucked my toes, and you agreed to try pegging," the man said quickly, eyeing Fenris's glowing hand with trepidation.

Fenris let his tattoos subside. "What manner of magic is this?" he said. "Who did it to you? We'll hunt them down and gut them."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "I did it on purpose," she said. "I was at the Emporium, going through that pile of junk off to the right, and found this rather amusing little statue. Long story short, I figured, why bother with pegging when I could offer you the real thing?" She smirked, that sideways grin that he could not resist, the one that said 'take me or leave me, I know who I am.'

"The real thing, hey?" he asked and dropped a hand down to the crotch of the ridiculous pants. "Mmmn, so I see. How very kind of you."

"That's me," said Isabela. "Always thinking of others."

He jerked her off the door and into the room, where he stripped her with swift economy. Her male body was as beautiful as her female one had been, lean and strong and sheathed in the same silky skin. Her cock was long and thick, stiffening beneath his ungentle strokes. He rolled the foreskin back, rubbed his thumb over the head.

Isabela gasped and moaned and jerked her hips. It was all so familiar and at the same time so strange. Her gold eyes, her taut torso, the way she fluttered her hands up his back and then drew her nails down.

"You're going to fuck me, are you?" he asked her.

"To our excruciating, mutual pleasure," she said and smashed her mouth against his. Here, too, her tongue was the same but the stubble was different, scraping against his lips and chin, rough and masculine. She was taller than him now. Shedrew his tunic off, unlaced his pants. Her hand, when it clasped him, was large and warm.

When she bent him over the table and slid one of those large, warm fingers into him, working the salve carefully but not too carefully, he laughed a little against the wood.

"What's funny, pet?" she asked. If anyone else had called him such he would have torn their heart out but this was Isabela.

"Only you," he said, "could - ah! - embrace such a thing so easily. Ah!"

"Mmmm," she said. "Like that, do you?"

He wasn't sure if she was referring to the rotation of her fingers inside him or her own adventurous nature but it didn't really matter. "Yes," he said.

She leaned over him, her chest hair tickling his back, waking all the nerves. "I fucked Anders today, you know."

"I know," he said. "I can still smell the elfroot."

"Dammit," she muttered, and then laughed. "I can never surprise you anymore." Her fingers withdrew and he couldn't help himself from canting his hips and thrusting back, trying to follow. "This might be a little shocking though." She pushed her cock in.

After that, there were no more words. Just a desperate rutting against the table, and then up against the wall, and then, finally, in the bed, Fenris on his knees, muffling his ragged cries against the pillow while Isabela draped her larger form over his and expertly stroked him to orgasm.

They lay on the bed, side by side, not embracing but touching, here and there - the elbow, the knee. Isabela arched her back and sighed like a cat. "One left," she said.

"One what?" asked Fenris.

She sat up, gave him a quick kiss, and winked. "I just have one little item left on my to-do, and then I'll come back here and we can cavort until the spell wears off, how does that sound?"

"You assume that I have nothing better to do with my time," said Fenris.

"Sweet thing," she slid off the bed and stretched again, displaying the magnificence that was Isabela-as-man. "You couldn't possibly."

He laughed. He had to.

When she was gone, he stood, walked naked to the window, and flung it open. "Get out of my tree, Merrill," he said. It was difficult to summon any kind of real acrimony, given how relaxed and satisfied and generally good Isabela always left him feeling.

The tree rustled frantically, there was a little cry of "Oh, Creators!" and then a very flustered elf dropped to the ground and scampered off.


	7. Hawke

Hawke stepped into her house, closed the door, and leaned her head back against it for a moment, eyes closed. Why this Maker-be-damned city couldn't solve its own Maker-be-damned problems, she would never know. Alright, Qunari uprisings and dragons, that she was ready to admit needed a hero. But surely she had slain enough bandits and Tal Vashoth and spiders to make it possible for people to pick their own damn herbs by now?

"A new message for you, messere!" said Bodahn brightly as she walked into the downstairs hall.

"Oh, good," she said. "What now, I wonder? A lost kitten? Someone needs another player for their Wallop team?"

It was a bit of paper, recognizable as torn from one of Varric's manuscripts, covered on one side with fragments of Varric's latest story, and on the other, a crude drawing. A stick figure woman, obviously meant to be Isabela, a plus sign, and then a rendition of an erect cock, lovingly detailed and disturbingly realistic. An exclamation point completed the message.

"What. The fuck," said Hawke, for once genuinely confused. "Is she telling me that she's getting laid? Does she think that's necessary?"

"I'm sure I don't know, messere," said Bodahn with his usual aplomb. "Did you want me to draw a bath?"

"Maker, yes." Hawke tossed the scrap back onto the desk.

She was chin-deep in suds with her eyes shut when the commotion broke out downstairs.

"You can't just barge in -!" Bodahn, sounding harassed.

"I left a note, she's expecting me!" A man's voice, strangely familiar.

"Ser! Ser, stop! Blasted dog, why are you just laying there!"

Murfle's confused whine.

Steps on the stairs, more shouting. Hawke sighed, readied a Winter's Grasp, and waited. She wasn't getting out of her bath, she didn't care if it was the Maker himself come to see her.

The door burst open and revealed the most amazingly beautiful man she'd ever seen, although the effect was somewhat ruined by her manservant wrapped grimly around one of his legs.

"Go on and freeze him," shouted Bodahn. "You can thaw me out later!"

"Get off me you blasted dwarf!" the man shouted. "Hawke, call off your butler!"

Hawke narrowed her eyes. The lip ring, the (currently dwarf-impeded) swagger, the eyes. "Let go of the good Captain, Bodahn," she said. "Though I thank you for your dedication and bravery."

The dwarf let go, tugged his tunic down stiffly, and bowed. "As you wish, messere. I'll just be downstairs if you need anything." He glared at Isabela and left.

"Bought the Idol of Transition, did you?" said Hawke. She let the frost lapse off her fingertips and summoned fire instead, reheating her water until it steamed.

"You mean I wasn't the first person to fondle it?" said Isabela. "How very disappointing."

"I try not to fondle anything in that shop," said Hawke. "Xenon pointed it out to me. Repeatedly."

"And you didn't give it a go?" Isabela stalked into the room and began stripping down.

"What are you doing?" asked Hawke wearily.

"I think I need a bath," said Isabela. "I'm filthy, sweet thing. Sponges in my room at the Hanged Man leave something to be desired."

"Oh, fine," said Hawke.

Isabela was delicious as a woman, a fact Hawke was intimately familiar with. As a man he was mouthwatering. "So," said Hawke as he slid into the water and stretched out. "How many of our friends have you bedded since you fondled that Idol?"

Isabela laughed. "You know me too well," he said. "Um, three. Oh, and I probably could have had Varric but I knew he would have regretted it in the morning."

"Leave 'em smiling, that's your way," agreed Hawke.

"What about you, sweet thing?" purred Isabela. A set of toes lightly pinched Hawke's thigh. "Want to smile?"

"Hmmm," said Hawke. "I don't know." She leaned back against the edge of the tub. "Convince me."

"Oooh, a challenge," said Isabela. "I think my pride's a little hurt. Everyone else basically just knelt down at my feet."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Hawke.

"Alright then," said Isabela, and spread his arms along the lip of the tub. Water and suds streamed down his chest. His nipples were just at the waterline. "I could tell you how I seduced Anders."

"You slept with Anders? He didn't offer to drown you in blood, did he?"

"Not that I recall. He did get pretty incoherent toward the end, it's true," Isabela mused. "He is an incredible lay, by the way."

Hawke scowled. "Why do I get the self-loathing and warnings of heartbreak and you get the electricity thing?"

Isabela shrugged. "Because I'm the whore and you're the one he wants to cherish forever."

"Balls," said Hawke, eloquently.

"This isn't turning you on," said Isabela. "New topic. Fenris."

"You fuck Fenris all the time," said Hawke. "And you tell me about it."

"Merrill watched?"

"La la la la la!" shouted Hawke, slamming her hands over her ears. "Not hearing this! Not hearing this even a little bit!"

"Alright, fine. Pulling out the big crossbow." Isabela pushed away from the side of the tub and slithered through the water to put his hands on either side of Hawke, caging her. "I fucked Sebastian."

"La la -! You did _not_."

"Did. He was hanging out at the Docks, all dirtied up, waiting for his rentboy to come along. Apparently he's got some kind of ... arrangement."

"He does not!"

"Does! He asked me if I was Leegan. Said he paid in advance."

Hawke grabbed Isabela by the forearms. "Tell me you aren't lying. Please, please tell me you are telling me the truth."

"May I never sail again," said Isabela, putting one hand over his heart.

"Tell. Me. Everything," demanded Hawke.

"How about," said Isabela, his lips touching Hawke's ear, "I show you?"

"I, uh," said Hawke as goosebumps shot down her neck and shoulder, "I don't know. As repressed as Sebby is ..."

"I'll adapt it," said Isabela. "For your more moderate tastes."

Which was how she ended up tied to her bedpost, kneeling with her ass out while Isabela spanked her. That extra upper body strength was a definite plus, as far as she was concerned.

"And he talked the whole time," said Isabela in a dirty growl that made her toes curl. "Whimpering." _Smack!_ "Pleading." _Smack!_ "Telling me what a very bad," _Smack!_ "bad" _Smack_! "boy he was. All sweaty and writhing, those gorgeous blue eyes begging me for more."

"Oh Maker," Hawke gasped.

"And I gave it to him," said Isabela, sliding one finger into Hawke and then pulling it out. "Just like I'm going to give it to you." He put the finger in his mouth, licked it clean, and then ran both hands over Hawke's red, stinging, hot bottom. "Where do you want it, pet, hmm? Where I gave it to sweet Sebastian? Or in your lovely little cunt?"

"Stingy," said Hawke. "Making me choose."

"Oh, is that how it is?" Isabela laughed. "Well that gives me an obvious starting point." And he buried himself to the hilt in Hawke's gloriously wet pussy. "Oh, Andraste's bouncing tits," he moaned. "You feel fantastic."

Hawke could only work her wrists against the ropes and gasp. "Isabela," she managed. "Your cock is huge."

"I know," said Isabela, smugly.

Hawke came three times, once for each orifice and then again when Isabela ate her languorously out afterward.

"Too bad I didn't swipe a restoration potion or two when I was at Anders's," said Isabela. "Oh well."

"Ng," said Hawke. "You are not human, Izzy. How many times have you had sex in the last twenty four hours?"

Isabela began counting on her fingers, then gave up and shrugged. "A lot. Side effect of the Idol, Xenon said. 'Increased sex drive.'"

"Maker's cock," said Hawke. "I'm amazed, given your baseline, that you weren't out humping walls and statuary."

"And on that note, I promised to get back to Fenris before the spell wore off. I think I have a couple hours yet."

"Lucky elf," Hawke muttered into her pillow.

"Ooooor," said Isabela, trailing a finger up Hawke's spine. "We could just send Orana with a note. Tell him to come over and bring his biggest sword?"

Hawke swallowed. Her hips made a little involuntary motion against the bed.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," said Isabela.


	8. Epilogue

"So," said Varric as he dealt the cards. "How was your walk on the other side, Rivaini?"

"A real learning experience," said Isabela, leaning forward to let Fenris, across the table from her, feast his eyes on her restored cleavage. "I feel all enlightened. About the human condition."

Hawke snorted and Anders rolled his eyes.

"I can see how having a penis would give you new insights," said Merrill. "Is there a chance I could have a go at the Idol, Isabela?"

"Sorry, sweet thing," said Isabela. "One use only. The damn thing crumbled into dust. Pity. It was just the right shape."

"Alright, alright," said Aveline irritably. "Can we just play cards?"

The door swung open and Sebastian walked in. "Good evening, all," he said with that gentle, beatific smile.

"Choir-Boy! Shall I deal you in?" asked Varric. "We're not playing for money," he added as Sebastian hesitated. "Anders is too broke and Hawke is too drunk."

"Yep!" said Hawke.

"Well, in the spirit of comraderie," said Sebastian and sat down. Somewhat gingerly, Isabela noticed with satisfaction.

Several hands later, he tossed his cards down with a good natured sigh. "I don't know why I bother," he said. "You beat me every time, Isabela."

Hawke burst into raucous laughter.

"I'm wily," said Isabela. "And I cheat."

"I was watching!" he protested.

She made a card dance across her fingers, slipped it into the pack and then flipped it over on the top. "You'll never catch _mi truco_ ," she said.

"You - what?" he asked, startled.

" _Truco_ ," she said. "It means 'trick.' In Rivaini." She winked.

All the colour fell out of his face.

"Could you tell me," said Merrill later, as Isabela was walking her home, "did it get very confusing? I mean, with everyone thinking you were someone else, and people calling you different names and using 'he' when they spoke about you? I would get ever so confused. Were you confused?"

"No, sweet thing," said Isabela. "Why should it matter what other people think of me, or how talk to me? I still knew who I was. That's what matters."

"That makes so much sense," said Merrill. "So it didn't change you at all, being a man?"

"I don't think so," said Isabela.

"Is there anything you miss about it? Being taller? Not getting pinched all the time? Big arm muscles?"

"The cock," said Isabela and sighed. "Maker, it was huge."


End file.
